NOT FOR WEENIES
(Posted May 17, 2016)
My wife had a couple of single female friends, both in
their 50's, over for dinner the other night at our house in Mill Valley,
and the conversation eventually turned to the sad state of their love
"I've sunk to Match.com," said Sally,
referring to the most prominent online dating service. "And even
that's not working well. I'm not getting a lot of responses to my
My interest in the conversation, which had been at
zero, increased slightly. And when the other friend, Doris, said that she
was on Match.com as well and had also been mostly unsuccessful, I saw an
"Maybe it's your profiles," I said, sensing a
business opportunity. "How about I take a look and let you know what
a man really thinks?"
I was a bit surprised by their enthusiasm. "WOULD
YOU?" they exclaimed in unison. "That would be
KA-CHING!! I could see the money pouring in. I would
create a profile that would have these ladies fighting off men left and
right, and when the word spread about who created it, I could charge
thousands of dollars to lonely single women looking for an elusive mate.
But this one I'd do for free, because they were
friends. "Let's take a look," I said as my wife rolled her eyes
and Sally pulled out her laptop and began typing in her user name and
She drew her chair close to mine and we looked together
as her profile quickly filled the screen, while Doris waited patiently for
her turn. Naturally, the first thing I focused on was the photos.
"GOOD LORD, SALLY, WHAT WERE YOU
THINKING!!!!" I shouted as I checked out the eight photos she had
posted. "You look like a frigging Grandmother!!!!"
"You don't like the photos?" she asked.
"I was wondering if that was a problem."
"It wouldn't be if you were looking for an 80-year
old," I replied. "But I think you'd prefer someone
After deleting five of the eight photos, I instructed
her to find some photos that showed her true age. She was a good-looking
woman and she posted photos that made her look like a Marin Earth Mama.
Unless she was looking for an Earth Papa, they had to go.
Being a professional matchmaking consultant was all
about tough love. So far, Sally was not in tears and actually thought I'd
been helpful, so I forged on. It was time to look at the rest of the
"GOOD LORD, SALLY, WHAT WERE YOU
THINKING!!!!" I shouted again as I read her interests. "You'll
never get a guy when you say you belong to a book club and like coffee and
"But it's true," she meekly replied.
"Truth is for losers in the rough world of
dating," I said, knowing full well that I was completely clueless.
"Let's put cooking and watching sports as your interests."
I wasn't through. For "SPORTS AND EXERCISE,"
I put 'surfing at Muir Beach.' For "BODY TYPE" I put
'vivacious.' For "WANTS KIDS?" I put 'Yes, but I'm 55 frigging
years old and not expecting miracles, yet I'm willing to give it the old
college try four or five times a week.' For "DRINKS ALCOHOL?" I
put 'YEAH, BABY!!'
I moved on to her essay about who she was looking for
in a partner.
"GOOD LORD, SALLY, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!!!!," I
shouted as I read. "You're looking for a guy who likes to
"I like to dance," she quietly replied. "I
thought it would be nice."
"You just eliminated 95% of the respondents," I
said, throwing up my hands, thoroughly disgusted. "I don't know if I
can work with you."
I kept reading, trying to think of someone I knew who
fit the description of what Sally was seeking. I'm sure they existed, just
not on this planet. Clearly, this was going to take a lot of time and
effort to get her up to speed, and Doris had been waiting patiently. I
decided to move on.
"OK, Doris, it's your turn," I said
confidently. "What's your password?"
I guess that's why they invented passwords.